


Shower routine (2 hours and 27 minutes precisely)

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Depression, Disassociation, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Not Beta Read, Self-Hatred, Tags Are Hard, also headcanon that despair feels like drowning in syrup, i headcanon junko despair-ized hajime before the Project, my weird way of writing hajime using talents, post-sdr2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:53:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26894749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Every Thursday and Sunday, shower.Every Thursday and Sunday, remind himself that he doesn't deserve to be alive.Every Thursday and Sunday, remember what it was like to be loved by her-Every Thursday and Sunday, immediately feel guilty and ashamed and throw his savior down the drain-Every Friday and Monday, ask for a new pencil sharpener or razor or pair of scissors.
Relationships: Enoshima Junko/Hinata Hajime (implied)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Shower routine (2 hours and 27 minutes precisely)

**Author's Note:**

> ok, so originally there were a buncha dialogue parts between 'i wanna be normal and heal' hajime and 'you don't deserve to live' hajime (basically hajime fighting with himself, izuru has no part in this fic.  
> you might say, but stovvie, why'd you cut those out? well, the conversation just didnt really show what i was feeling. im not a native english speaker, so i just couldn't pull off what i was going for.  
> did i delete it in a really messy way? yes. is the fic really choppy now? yes. does it still give off an effect i want? ...sorta, yeah.  
> sorry for rambling.

_Go on. Do it. Say why you're not worthless. Say why you deserve to be here. Say why they need you. Say what you can do that won't be useless._

_5:00AM_

Underneath the shower head, Hajime opens his eyes. It's cruelly silent as Hajime struggles for words. And-slightly horrified-he realizes that he sort of wants himself to keep talking, because at least that train of thought has had years of practice running around his brain.

_“I’m not like Nagito! He-I’m not **depressed** , I haven’t gone through the stuff he has-“_

Hajime shuts up the Ultimate Psychologist, Psychiatrist, Therapist before he can say ‘Actually, you-‘

He doesn’t realize that he’s started saying things out loud until he hears his own weak voice reverberating against the glass walls and grating on his ears. He’s panting, trying to keep his hands away from his body, and desperately fumbles around for the shower handle-

And slams it the wrong way, causing burning cold water to splash down his body.

…He doesn’t flinch. Actually, he stands there a little longer, savoring the feeling of his ugly, traitorous thoughts being numbed and reduced to a faint buzzing in the back of his mind.

It's freezing.

_...Just a little while longer._

_6:09AM_

He doesn’t answer, continues to stare at the olive green eye and the ominous, cold red one in the mirror. He doesn’t need to.

_(How did I get to the mirror again?)_

A choked gasp crawls out the back of his throat, and he swallows. He doesn’t remember summoning up rebuttals being this hard. Or maybe it’s just that when it comes to himself, there’s really nothing good to defend- _shutupshutup you’re not supposed to be thinking like that – **shut up-**_

Hajime - _the Ultimate Psychologist_ – is weakly begging – _is calmly stating_ – 

that’s not me anymore, that’s not, I - _still think like that_ –  
I don’t think like that, it’s wrong – _before, it was the environment at home and Hopes Peak’s influence_ –  
I’m not like Nagito, I know now that Hopes Peak was corrupt – _right now it’s Nagito’s influence and the guilt of knowing what Kamukura did_ –  
I know what I did, but that’s why we’re going to atone – _You don’t believe in hope due to experiencing despair at an early age, and because of **her**_ –  
no, we’re supposed to be looking towards the future, there shouldn’t be any reason for me to keep thinking like-

He feels as if his legs could give out at any moment, as his own thoughts are carving pretty patterns into his brain with sharp acrylic nails. He’s desperately staring – hard – at his hands that are gripping the edge of the sink, because he knows: 

Above them, there’ll be mismatched eyes that belong to a **nobody** and a **monster** ; 

To the right of them, there’ll be something small and cold and sharp and silver and _relieving_ and will only take him 2.26 seconds to take out and _press into his skin-_

Actually, the Ultimate Murderous Fiend helpfully supplies himself, only 0 seconds if he decides to use it without taking the blade out.

_It’s nearing winter, it’ll be so easy, and you’ll have an excuse to wear long pants and long sleeves and stay inside and go to the medicine cabinet-_

The ultimate vocalist, pop sensation, child caretaker starts to sing quietly, and the thoughts and conflicting emotions are suddenly pushed away. Just focus on the lyrics, on the melody-well, actually, the lyrics are unfamiliar to Hinata, but they still come easily to lips of the Ultimate Child Caretaker, Cartoon Enthusiast, Music Teacher. Hinata closes his eyes and lets his mouth move.

_Here comes a thought_

_That might alarm you_

His breath is coming slower, and there’s this fuzzy, warm, familiar feeling starting to envelop him

_What someone said_

_And how it_

Like syrup sluggishly creeping in his veins, but he can’t…quite put his finger…  
He doesn’t want it to stop.

_Harmed you…_

_Its right there, it’ll be so easy…_  
The tips of his fingers on his right hand twitches.

_Something you did_

_That failed to be…charming_

_“Shhh, c’mon hun, don’t be shy.”_

_Things that…you said…_

_“It’ll feel so good’_

_Are suddenly…_

_“to let loose all that pent up despair”_

_…swarming…_

_“Be a good boy, won’t you?”_

_7:21AM_

_**Splash.** _

The Ultimate Child Caretaker, Housekeeper, Neurologist, Moral Compass throws the shiny, enticing thing into the toilet. Before he can think better of it, it’s already being flushed.

He’s shivering, because he can still feel the remnants of being in that state (panting heavily, cheeks flushed and tear-stained, whispers he can’t quite make out floating around his head, sweat dripping down his back and legs, and a warm feeling coiling in his gut).

_I am fine. I am standing in front of the mirror which is fine, looking at my face which is fine. I am_ standing up, _I am fine, this is fine, everything is fine._

(He’s on the floor, back flushed against the wall, knees drawn to his chest, gasping panicky breaths. Too scared to wipe away the drool that had dripped down his chin and onto his neck because he might start _choking himself._ His fingers are desperately tugging at the carpet, because the others will notice if he scratches his arms, his legs, his face-)

“...Junko?”

He looked up, wide-eyed, like he heard someone, like he expected someone to be there.

No one is there. No one is ever there.

(But he can see in the mirror, the bright, alluring red eye and the dull green one where there had been an echo of swirls.)

**Author's Note:**

> also, this is my first Actual fic, soooo...
> 
> btw, is there a way where you don't have to fuckin _hand-type_ the html bullshit?


End file.
